Don't Call Me Angel
by is1bel
Summary: Max's thoughts sometime between her going off on her motorcycle and going to see Logan. Rated PG for language.


Title: Don't Call Me Angel 1/1  
Rating: weak PG-13 or a strong PG, there's a little bad language  
Summary: Max's thoughts sometime between her going off on her motorcycle and going to see Logan.  
Season/Sequel/Spoiler: 1st season, spoilers for the pilot.  
Category: Brief first person narrative.  
  
  
I never wanted to save anyone, not even me. I do it sometimes, but only because I can. Occasionally someone'll try to get me to help them out, and I just might be feeling nice that day, so I'll do it. Unless it involves the government, in any way, shape, or form. So I had to tell Logan no when he asked me to guard that woman and her daughter.   
  
I know Logan thinks I'm feeling guilty about him and the chair. I can say I'm not, but "Eyes Only" still won't believe it. Whatever. I say it serves him right. Trying to be all heroic, saving the "country" or some crap like that. Yeah, what that company was doing with the medicine sucked, and I lost a friend over it, but I can deal. Shit happens, get over it. I've lost more than one friend over the years. Sometimes I even lose myself.  
  
You know, for a minute there I thought I'd lost Logan. And that scared me.  
  
Doesn't seem like it should. After all, he's just a guy. I know lots of guys, and I like them a lot more than I like him. But when I saw him being shot on the police cam, I don't know, it just felt wrong. Like it wasn't supposed to happen like that.   
  
I tell myself that it's only because he knew me, knew what I was. Given enough time, Logan could probably help me find at least one of the others. He would too, 'cause that's the kind of person he is.   
  
Don't get me wrong, I still think he's an idiot for doing what he does. With his money, he could afford to get out of the so-called "United States" and run off to Europe or something. If I had that kind of cash, I'd be gone tomorrow. Might even take a few friends with me. Maybe I'd take Logan.  
  
Of course he'd never go, so I might stay with him instead.  
  
Don't think I'm getting all romantic about Logan or anything. Before the chair, it's possible that I might have thought about him in that sense, but only a little. I can never get real close to anyone, not even if he knows the truth about me. But none of that matters now, 'cause he's in that chair, maybe for life if the doctors around here can't pull a solution out of their asses.  
  
I've never had to think about stuff like that. When I get hurt, it stings for a moment, then it's gone. Nothing lasts more than a couple minutes, or maybe hours if I get real banged up. Don't ever let me say I don't like being able to shrug pain off like that, it's the upside to being one of the government's favorite pet projects. I can't imagine what it's like to be paralyzed any more than Logan can imagine what it's like to run so fast you'd swear you were flying. To walk into a room full of people and to just *know* that you could kill every single one of them before there was a chance for them to call for help. To be that help when someone else tries to do the same. Some days it's fun to be me.  
  
Most days it isn't.  
  
I wonder why I still run from the police cams. I'm not nine anymore, and the big bad doesn't know what I look like. Once upon a time they might've had the tech to figure out what us kids would turn out to be in ten years, but not anymore. And people say the pulse wrecked everything.   
  
True enough, life pretty much sucks now. But this old guy I met on the street says life sucked twenty years ago too. Nothing ever changes. That's why it's so sad when someone like Logan comes along and has the audacity to hope life will get better.  
  
I kinda thought he'd give up after he was shot. But this morning I saw one of his "reports" and knew he hadn't quit. Still trying to save the world, and from a wheel chair too. I'd go see him, but I think he'd try to guilt trip me into helping him again. And I don't wanna feel bad when I see his face after I tell him 'no' again. I'm not Logan; I don't want to help anybody, no matter what shit they're in. Why should I help anyone?  
  
I'm no angel.  



End file.
